Hand it Over

A tempest of sensations rushed at them, overwhelming their senses. A symphony of noise, the roaring, chittering, and screeching of the Swarm reverberated through the metallic walls, the chilling undertones of the kitchen's machinery harmonizing in discord. The air was thick with the cloying sweetness of alien blood, the metallic tang of their own, and the myriad scents of the kitchen, a symphony of spices, herbs, oils, meats, and vegetables, that had been left out in the rush to defend their stronghold. The bright, artificial lights threw sharp shadows over the scene of carnage, highlighting the stark contrast between the organic chaos of the Swarm and the structured sterility of the kitchen.

In the midst of this chaos, two Inhumans stood their ground, a pair against the monstrous onslaught of the Swarm. One, a woman wreathed in flames, her eyes blazing with a ferocity that matched the fire she wielded. The other, a man defying gravity, his body glowing with a celestial energy that allowed him to soar above the battlefield.

Their movements were a carefully orchestrated dance of survival. The man lifted the woman, her body a flaming beacon against the oppressive swarm, and flew around the space, a bird of prey in a storm. As they moved, the woman rained fireballs down on the Swarm members below. Their screams of pain were drowned in the cacophony of battle, their bodies reduced to smoldering husks in the onslaught.

Just when it seemed like their tactic was working, the unexpected happened. One of the Swarm members, more agile than its brethren, scuttled up the walls, a grotesque parody of a ninja. It moved with startling speed, its claws scraping against the metallic surface, and, at a calculated height, it launched itself at the airborne Inhumans.

The sudden attack caught them off guard. A quick swipe of its claws severed the man's hand, the sudden burst of pain disrupting his powers. The pair plummeted, their screams echoing through the kitchen as they fell into the waiting Swarm below. The creatures, ravenous and relentless, descended upon them, ripping them apart in a frenzy of mandibles and claws. The woman's last cries echoed hauntingly in the room as she was consumed by the Swarm.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the Swarm members ceased their mindless carnage. Something else had caught their attention—a row of bottles inside a transparent, glowing device. Their multifaceted eyes reflected the gleaming liquid inside the bottles, a sight that stirred something primal within their insectoid brains.

With the humans forgotten, they scrambled towards the machine. The creature that had attacked the flying Inhumans reached the device first, its claws slashing through the transparent surface, revealing the coveted liquid. What followed was a spectacle straight out of a wrestling match, the Swarm members headbutting, biting, and grappling each other, all for a taste of the liquid.

In the midst of this pandemonium, one of the Swarm members made a move that left the others flabbergasted. It crawled up a wall, much like it had done earlier, and then launched itself onto one of its brethren, mimicking a wrestling move it had no knowledge of, yet executing it flawlessly. It even flexed its bug-like arms, posing like a champion, even as its brethren squirmed beneath it.

Their struggle for supremacy was interrupted by a guttural roar—a blood-drenched Swarm member, larger and more intimidating than the rest, had appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. Its arrival was met with wide-eyed gazes from the others, the scent of its musky dominance wafting through the room. This was a Berserker Alpha, a figure of fear and respect within the Swarm.

The Berserker Alpha's murderous gaze scanned the room, shifting between the smaller Swarm members and the glistening bottles of liquid in the shattered device. Its focus landed on a creature clutching one of the bottles, holding it with the desperation of a child protecting a prized possession. The Berserker Alpha growled, extended its clawed hand, and gestured in a universal language—'hand it over.'

The Swarm member hesitated but eventually handed over the gallon of liquid to the Berserker Alpha. The memories of a Swarm member being used as a frisbee for weeks by the Berserker Alpha ran through its mind. It wasn't willing to share the same fate.

With a claw, the Berserker Alpha cut open the gallon and started drinking the white liquid. The taste seemed to satisfy its taste buds, and a sound of gratification echoed around the room. Its eyes sparkled with a newfound delight, and it shifted its gaze towards the rest of the Swarm members, who were still clutching onto their gallons.

A dreadful silence blanketed the kitchen as the Swarm members chose to defy the Berserker Alpha, digging their claws into the earth and tunneling away from the kitchen, their stolen loot in tow. The Berserker Alpha looked at the digged floor, then at the climber bug, then back at the digged floor. It heaved a sigh before launching itself into the ground after the Swarm members.

The climber bug, now alone, shrugged, an oddly human-like gesture, before resuming its exploration of the kitchen. It had learned that sometimes, it was better to be the observer than the participant.

In the midst of this odd spectacle, a new presence was making its way toward the remaining Inhumans. Kai Thanos, the Mad Titan, was coming. With a mental connection to his Swarm, he tracked the Inhumans with an unerring accuracy. He was the storm approaching, ready to bring about a catastrophic end to their desperate fight for survival.